


Surrender

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Comfort, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M, Mild Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pain, Painplay, Riding Crop, Romance, Rough Sex, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is only one person Eames will submit to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**
> 
> I was speaking to a friend about how there aren’t enough stories with Arthur in the dominant role out there, and she was also explaining why she enjoyed “Love Bites” so much. Since that story was so popular I thought I’d try my hand at another kink that I’m not particularly attached to but that I find interesting, because I always enjoy a challenge.

The carpet is thin and itchy, barely any padding at all for Eames’ bare knees. His knees burn and his legs ache from kneeling for so long but he says nothing. Nor does he complain about the tiredness of his shoulders, his wrists tied behind his back. The position is uncomfortable but not unwelcome, and not unfamiliar.

 

Eames blinks but sees nothing, lashes brushing against the soft fabric of the blindfold. If he strains his eyes he can make out a tiny hint of light through the material but not enough to give away a body or movement. The room is dimly lit, just enough for bare skin to glow. Eames’ only hint of movement is the sound of bare feet landing softly on the carpet as they circle him, and the smooth leather of the riding crop that occasionally caresses him.

 

He licks his lips. He is glad he is not gagged though it was not his decision. Eames wiggles his fingers and toes, keeping his blood flowing, and focuses all his attention on those muffled steps and the riding crop. He startles each time the leather touches him, never quite knowing when or where it will touch. A sweep up his calf, a brush over his hip, a trace along his shoulder blade and up across his neck. Eames shudders at each touch, knowing it is a mere hint and promise of what is to come.

 

The footsteps stop directly in front of him and Eames lifts his head slightly even though he can’t see anything. “Say my name,” a familiar voice demands. The voice is sharp now, but Eames knows it well enough to hear the warmth below.

 

“Arthur,” he says, voice rough from disuse.

 

“Again.”

 

Eames tilts his head up further until his neck is exposed. He knows Arthur likes watching his throat constrict when he swallows. He lets his lips fall slightly apart as he sighs. “ _Arthur_.”

 

The riding crop snaps against his chest. It is not a painful hit but it leaves a momentary sting following the initial jolt that shoots down his spine. Eames moans for Arthur the way he would moan for no one else. Another quick flick has the leather against his stomach, drawing all of Eames’ muscles taut in the mere instant of contact before the feet start pacing again. The next breath Eames releases catches in his throat as he feels his cock twitch.

 

“What do you have to say?” Arthur asks as the riding crop drags around Eames’ body as Arthur circles.

 

“More.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

The riding crop leaves Eames’ skin. “More, _please_ ,” Eames corrects himself. He grunts when the next bite of leather is against his lower back. His hips twitch forward as he shivers.

 

“That’s better,” Arthur praises. The leather soothes the red mark burning with heat on Eames’ back before continuing on. “You’ll always take more, won’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Eames agrees. He turns his head to follow the sound of Arthur's path until Arthur steps close. Eames winces when nimble fingers dig into his hair and pull; a strong hint to face forward.

 

Eames can feel his eyes prick with tears but he doesn’t complain, will never complain. “But you wouldn’t take more from just anyone,” Arthur muses aloud. His fingers alternate between tugging and caressing.

 

Eames shakes his head even though he knows it will make his scalp sting more insistently with his caught hair. “No.”

 

He can tell Arthur bends down because he can feel Arthur’s breath against his cheek. “From who?”

 

“You.”

 

“Who?” Arthur demands again.

 

“ _Only you_ ,” Eames answers him. He leans forward in a blind search for Arthur’s lips, Arthur’s fingers still in his hair and pulling.

 

“Good boy,” Arthur whispers and brushes his lips over Eames’ as a reward. Before Eames can even react or return the kiss Arthur is gone again, letting go of his hair. “You would do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Eames nods, forcing himself to continue facing forward even when those steps go behind him again.

 

“And you’d like it,” Arthur adds. After this he flicks the crop against Eames’ back a few more times. Arthur is so skilled at this, knowing just how to twist his wrist to make a heated mark but not cut skin. Eames whimpers at each hit, his hips rising in a forced rhythm.

 

“I’d love it,” Eames tells him.

 

Eames’ whole back is burning when Arthur steps in front of him again. Eames can feel each inch where leather hit and he stretches his back languidly, feeling his taut skin and muscles pull and ache. His attention is drawn forward when Arthur begins tracing the curve of Eames’ rigid cock with the tip of the crop. A whine escapes Eames.

 

“You’re so pretty,” Arthur praises, a thumb denting Eames’ bottom lip. Eames opens his mouth willingly. He can feel the pad of Arthur’s thumb run along the crooked line of Eames’ teeth and reach in further to press Eames’ tongue down. Then the thumb returns to Eames’ lips and Eames kisses it fondly.

 

Eames knows Arthur has been as naked as Eames this entire time so it is no surprise when no sound of a zipper or rustling fabric precedes the nudge of Arthur’s cock against Eames’ lips. He can feel the heat of Arthur’s body standing so close; it’s radiating off his skin. Eames parts his lips further but doesn’t lean forward. He waits for permission.

 

“You will suck me and take my seed,” Arthur informs him, cool, calculated even with the crown of his cock smearing precome against Eames’ bottom lip. “You will not come until I say. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” Eames moans, trembling with need. Still he waits.

 

Somehow even with the little space between them Arthur manages to find the angle to snap the riding crop’s leather against his stomach a few more times. Each hit is a harsh kiss to Eames’ skin. Eames can feel a glob of precome dribble down the length of his cock. He takes a few deep, shuddering breaths to steady himself.

 

“You may begin.”

 

Permission granted, Eames darts his tongue out to flick against Arthur’s slit. He still can’t see so this will all be done by touch alone. Eames can taste the salt on his tongue and hears Arthur’s hissed breath and knows he aimed correctly. While he knows the location he rotates his tongue, following the ridge of Arthur’s crown. He continues this until Arthur’s fingers return to his hair and drag him forward, forcing half of his cock into Eames’ mouth in a rush.

 

Eames chokes and swallows, calming his throat until he regains control. Arthur allows him this one moment but doesn’t release Eames’ hair or mouth, remaining half-buried. Sometimes Arthur allows Eames to lead the pace but tonight he seeks more control. His fingers remain knotted in Eames’ hair, leading him, and Eames will not argue. He allows Arthur to pull Eames’ mouth off and then shove his cock back in. He moans for Arthur, offering extra vibrations that he knows will make Arthur bite his bottom lip beautifully even if the blindfold steals the sight from him this time.

 

This is familiar to them. They know what they like and what is too far. Still, Eames will never tire of submitting his body to Arthur, of being used however Arthur wishes for his pleasure. Eames only opens his mouth wider and sucks as he adjusts to Arthur’s demanding rhythm tonight, drawing out a choked-off moan from his partner.

 

Arthur fucks his mouth greedily, cock nudging the back of Eames’ mouth more than once. Eames does his best to keep his throat relaxed but just once Arthur pushes too far, his whole length shoved deep. Eames gags as tears soak the blindfold and tickle his nose, and he groans when Arthur retreats fully.

 

Nothing is said as Arthur’s hand massages the underside of Eames’ throat. The pressure of his fingers is almost too much but Eames tilts his head back, offering his neck trustingly. After a few moments his throat stops constricting and he can breathe normally again. There is no word that needs to be spoken as Arthur repositions himself at Eames’ mouth.

 

Eames grants him easy access, opening willingly as Arthur begins his rhythm anew. It is as demanding as before but not as deep, more controlled. Eames can feel Arthur drawing close and his wrists pull against the bindings. He wants to feel Arthur. He wants to feel his trembling thighs and lead his stuttering hips, but he cannot. He must remain kneeling for Arthur to use as he pleases.

 

Arthur has lost himself now; Eames can tell. He is pulling Eames’ hair tightly and his nails scrape against Eames’ scalp. His hips are pushing forward without a thought, instinct driving Arthur to seek his completion. Eames hums constantly around the cock in his mouth, egging Arthur on. He can feel the heated, wet flesh rubbing against his tongue and the roof his mouth and he knows there is nowhere else he’d rather be.

 

“ _Eames_...” Arthur moans and then gasps. It is the only warning Eames will receive. He takes a deep breath and sucks hard and Arthur unravels. Eames wishes he could watch Arthur’s lashes flutter, his skin flush, but for now he must be content with the low groan that comes from Arthur’s throat as he spills himself in Eames’ mouth.

 

Eames focuses on swallowing what he can and licking up what he misses. He cleans Arthur and licks his own lips and then allows Arthur to lead him forward to lap up the droplets of come he missed from Arthur’s softening length. He can tell every time Arthur shivers and it makes Eames smile.

 

He knows he has done a good job when he hears Arthur kneeling in front of him, matching his position minus the blindfold or the bound hands. Eames can feel his body craning forward, seeking out the warmth Arthur is sharing with him. Eames is still hard, his cock twitching, and he knows this isn’t over yet.

 

The blindfold remains snug over Eames’ eyes as he feels Arthur’s hands skim up his arms and down his chest. Warm lips follow the column of Eames’ neck and then Eames rocks forward, gasping as teeth sink into his skin. They never break skin but this will leave a visible mark. The bruise will hurt each time Eames pokes it curiously until it fades.

 

Arthur repeats this multiple times where Eames’ neck meets his shoulder, first one side and then the other. His hands join in, fingers pinching Eames’ nipples until Eames whines, shifting his weight. His instincts tell him to run, to fight the pain, but instead he presses closer. He pants as Arthur abandons one nipple and drops his hand down to encircle Eames.

 

The teeth against his skin act as an anchor for them both as Arthur’s hand begins to glide. Eames is close enough that Arthur can use his precome to slick his hand, though the dryness would not be enough to ruin this for Eames with Arthur’s teeth sinking in. There are too many points of contact to focus on and Eames finds himself lost, thrusting into Arthur’s fist with abandon.

 

Eames can’t last and Arthur knows this. He doesn’t speak but his teeth withdraw and leave way for his lips. Arthur’s kiss to his deepest bite mark is all the permission Eames needs as he jolts forward, painting Arthur’s palm white with a stuttered, drawn-out moan. Arthur nips his neck a few more times and milks him, dragging a full-body shudder through Eames.

 

Arthur presses another kiss to Eames’ lips and then Eames is left alone to recover as Arthur stands and walks away. Eames waits patiently until Arthur returns with a warm cloth and begins cleaning him with soft, tender strokes. Once Eames is clean Arthur undoes the bindings around his wrists and pulls away the blindfold. Eames blinks against the dim lighting from the bedside lamp, taking in the familiar sight of their bedroom.

 

Eames doesn’t fight Arthur when he lifts him to his feet and leads him to the bed. Arthur is supporting Eames’ extra weight as his legs and arms cramp; Arthur won’t drop him. Eames settles on the mattress and Arthur sits on the edge, using a second warm cloth to relieve any lingering pain left by the riding crop or Arthur’s teeth.

 

When they are finally cleaned and relaxed Arthur lies down on the mattress beside Eames. He turns off the bedside lamp and pulls the blankets tight around them both. Eames’ arms and legs ache with tiredness but he still turns and wraps his body around Arthur, staying close. “I love you,” he whispers against Arthur’s hair.

 

Arthur turns to him even though it’s too dark in the room to see. “I love you too,” Arthur promises, voice warm and open now. “You’re okay?”

 

Eames nodded. “Much better than okay.”  He pressed a deep, lingering kiss to Arthur’s lips, and smiles when Arthur returns it, both of them wrapped up in the blankets and their shared embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**


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